COLUMN: Crashing through the snow, in a slick red open sleigh
I am lucky enough to have grandparents who own a cabin in Island Park.
It’s perfect, river-front property only half an hour away from West Yellowstone. The cabin, which my grandpa built, is the meeting place for my entire extended family.
At this time of the year, one of the biggest perks of all this are the snowmobiles my grandparents own and house at the cabin.
My grandpa lets his grandchildren drive as soon as they are tall enough to see over the steering mechanism and as soon as someone teaches them. I started when I was nine.
Driving a snowmobile was great fun. It offered a freedom and control I had never before experienced. I loved the feeling of cruising on top of a new snow, hitting the jumps and avoiding the tree stumps.
But, the demons of winter recreation were soon to hit. My first crisis occurred when I decided to slow way down in the powder. Needless to say, I was too little to pull out the snowmobile myself and had to get my dad to help. I was paranoid of powder for a while after that.
It got better. Within the next few years, I popped spark plugs, rolled down a hill and cracked the windshield, frequently dumped the cousins riding behind me and hit a tree – two different times.
As we were pounding dents out from my most recent meeting with the tree, something occurred to me. Snowmobiling could be dangerous. And even worse, everyone made fun of me when I did something stupid. Maybe this wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
A few years later, I was out in the powder again, and it was my sister’s first year driving the sleds. I decided to let her drive home. To get there, we had to go down a high bank, across the road and immediately up another higher bank.
As we were careening down the first bank at breakneck speed, I realized my sister didn’t know what she was doing. It was too late. We hit the next bank.
My older sister instinct directed me to put my arms around the helmet on her head, to prevent her from hitting the flimsy plastic windshield. I didn’t help much. She still had a bloody nose, lip and eyebrow. I had 10 jammed fingers and a piano competition coming up in nine days.
I can now say I am a bit more cautious on the snowmobiles and have had very few accidents. And I was looking forward this year to a safe, fun winter.
But, I discovered a new hazard, more dangerous than even snowmobiling – walking around on and near campus.
Here’s a perfect example. Tuesday morning I came running down the stairs in a panic because I thought I would be late for class. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I hit a nice piece of black ice and fell right on my backside.
This scenario was almost repeated again later that day in front of the Taggart Student Center. My fancy footwork received an ovation from the people walking behind me because I somehow stayed on my feet. Watch out, you don’t even see the ice coming.
So, with all that said, I would like to wish everyone a happy and safe Christmas. Don’t let children drive snowmobiles and watch out for the ice around campus.
Danielle Hegsted is the assistant features editor Comments can be sent to elleinad2727@yahoo.com